


Dinner and a Show

by missingelderly



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingelderly/pseuds/missingelderly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy attempts to make dinner. "Attempts" being the key word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner and a Show

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of stuff about Murphy and Bell as roommates who become friends with benefits who become something else. This is the silliest piece I have for this AU. I'll post more if there's interest. Or not. Because the world needs more murphamy anyway.
> 
> Dedicated to Abby, as always.

Really, Bellamy should have known not to leave alcohol unattended in the house. He was already halfway through cooking the meal when he noticed the bottle of wine he had set on the counter only a few hours ago was missing. Frowning, he puzzled over the possibility that he misplaced it, when Murphy strolled into the room.

“I kind of needed that.”

Murphy shrugged, taking a long draught from the wine bottle in his hands. “There’s still some left.” He offered it to Bellamy, swirling the wine to make an audible sloshing noise.

“I don’t want your backwash in my chicken sauté.”

He rolled his eyes and took another swig. “As if you’ve never had my spit in your mouth before.”

“You couldn’t have got a glass?”

Murphy made a vague motion with his hand, mid-sip— _I could have, but well, you see…_

Bellamy rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the cutting board. “You look like a two year old sucking on a bottle.”

His lips pulled away from the mouth of the bottle with a smack. “And you look like an asshole whose afraid of his boyfriend’s spit.”

Bellamy broke out into a grin. “Yeah? Boyfriend?”

He laughed at Murphy’s sudden fidgeting. “Look.” Murphy coughed. “I’ll go out and buy another one if you want.”

“That’d be great. _Honey_.”

“Just give me the money you piece of shit.”

Bellamy was still laughing to himself as Murphy left. As he continued the dinner prep, frequently referencing the recipe on his phone, he realized he forgot to specify to go to an actual store, not just grab a cheap bottle from the corner store and pocket the change, which Murphy was prone to doing.

But then he thought, fuck it. It wouldn’t be a romantic evening with Murphy if something didn’t go wrong.

When he did come home, Murphy’s expression was dark and he set the newly purchased bottle of wine down with more force than necessary. Bellamy quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I got fucking carded. Again.”

Bellamy laughed so hard he had to grab the counter for support. Murphy folded his arms across his chest, moodily.

“Don’t you fucking say anything.”

“I wasn’t going to…” He grabbed Murphy’s face in one hand in the way that overly affectionate aunts are prone to do. “Babyface,” he cooed.

Murphy shoved his hand away. “I swear to god, Bell—”

“Come on, Murphy.”

“Just drop it.”

“I’m only joking.”

“I don’t care!”

Bellamy pecked his forehead. “You are the most decrepit relic of the stone age that I’ve ever seen. How about that, crypt keeper?”

“Better.”

Murphy smirked at him, which was as good as a smile. His lips were stained from the wine, and in lieu of pointing it out, Bellamy kissed him, tasting heavily of wine with a slight twinge of nicotine, a quick cigarette at the bus stop on the way to the liquor store. Murphy made a small noise of pleased surprise and pulled him against the edge of the counter.

“Not now,” Bellamy whispered against his mouth. “Dinner’s not finished.”

“Then make it quick.”

With one hand cradling his head, Bellamy caught Murphy’s lower lip in his mouth, gently sucking on the stain. Murphy responded by slipping his hands up Bellamy’s shirt and dragging his nails down his back, making Bellamy shiver. 

The smell of a campfire, familiar yet unusual in the current setting, made Bellamy pull away. “Do you smell smoke?” he asked.

Murphy’s lips were pressed against Bellamy’s throat. “The next thing you say better be ‘because that ass is on fire’.”

Bellamy spun around and saw a plume of grey rising from the frying pan. “Fuck!”

“Or it’s just, you know,” Murphy said, trying not to sound dejected at the sudden break of contact. “Dinner.”

Bellamy could hear the mournful sound of taps playing in his head as he dashed the burnt chicken into the sink. When he turned back around, Murphy was sitting on the counter, prying the cork out of the new wine bottle. He shrugged at Bellamy.

“We could always just order pizza.”

“Fuck you.”


End file.
